I clutched the minivan door handle as if my life depended on it. A life was depending on it. The life of my unborn daughter—Baby Cinco, our Songbird. It was two weeks before her due date according to my calculations (three if you ask the Doc).

I was in active labor and the contractions weren’t letting up. In true tightly wound fashion, I told Adam to call the hospital and let them know we were on our way and to be ready. I was not going to wait around at registration to answer ridiculous questions like my birth date and address with contractions coming on strong.

P.S. I had been dilated to a 4 since Tuesday, and this was Thursday. This fact seemed to light a fire under the hospital staff.

Speaking of fire, I was dreading the ring of it that was sure to come with pushing, but there was no turning back now. I was afraid this bundle of dynamite was going to blast her way out, right there in the van, so I did all I could to resist this reality.

It was normally a half hour drive down the highway to our hospital of choice (we may have arrived—bulging belly and all—in seventeen minutes flat). The ER staff was waiting with a wheelchair. I felt every bump up to the maternity floor as my baby bump led the way.

I was relieved to see the face of my OB (the same doctor who delivered our first daughter, twelve years prior) as I entered the Labor and Delivery Floor.

Now that we had safely arrived, I was determined to stop resisting labor and cooperate with the contractions.

Willingly embracing pain is about as natural as the processed American cheese slices I use to make grilled cheese sandwiches. In other words, “embracing pain” is a completely foreign concept. Most of us in American culture try and resist pain as we seek out comfort—comfort in food, in possessions, in relationships, and a life of ease. We’d rather grip the minivan handle than open our fists in surrender.

As the pain swelled, this phrase kept circling in my mind, I can’t do this without You. I can’t do this without You.

The only way through the pain was to face more pain.

Surrender was required in order to experience deliverance.

And finally—okay it was only 2.5 hours later, don’t hate me—the time came to push.

My body had pushed babies out before, but this time was different.

Scared and wide-eyed with fright, the pain took over my body with the force of a California tremor as tectonic plates suddenly slip.

“Help!” I yelled.

“Help me!!” I pleaded.

“You’re safe,” my doctor announced, trying to reassure me.

“You’re safe,” he repeated.

I felt anything but safe. This was unlike anything I had experienced in previous labors. The earthquake continued in strength as I held on for dear life.

I reached the end of myself. Face-to-face with more pain than I was prepared for, I had no choice but to go forward.

I can’t do this without You. I can’t do this without You.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to, because Jesus was not just the name I was calling upon for help, but the very One who could sustain me. I couldn’t feel Him then—all I could feel was the overwhelming pain, coupled with a thin intravenous line of hope that this would be over soon—but I knew He was there.

God created life after all, and as I hovered on the fault line, He met me with strength and determination to push through the pain.

I can do this with You. I can do this with You.

I found Grace clinging to my weakness as I reached the end of my capabilities.

What about you? Are you in a season of pain? Are you frightened by the gravity of your circumstances?

How do we find Grace when we reach the end of ourselves?

Admit weakness. Dare to utter, I can’t do this without You and acknowledge your need for assistance.

Ask Jesus to help. Yell “Help!” if needed. Call upon His name—not in vain, but because He is absolutely capable of meeting you in your place of need. It doesn’t mean He will make the pain vanish, but He will be with you as you walk in and through it. I think Jesus is waiting for us to ask for help, but we often charge ahead in self-sufficiency and eventually (or sometimes quickly) reach the end of ourselves.

Focus on truth. Declare, I can do this with You. Meditate on, and consider memorizing, key Scriptures that uplift you. Ask the Holy Spirit to impart a laser focus on truth when the world and the enemy push back with lies. Stay grounded in God’s Word so that you don’t fall apart when the pressure is on.

You are not alone in this battle. You are not forgotten in the midst of this difficult circumstance.

“Sometimes I forget. Sometimes in the midst of church life, I just “do” and I forget the “who”. I forget the “Why,” and do not rest in His “Because.” My former worship pastor shared this with me, ‘The greatest impediment to your spiritual intimacy is your giftedness. Because you are gifted, you are going to make life work within the church without ever knowing God well.'” –Jennifer Schmidt

I’m a Martha fan.

You know her right? She’s Mary’s sister in the Bible. She was a doer—responsible and hard-working. She took care of others and got things done.

Martha often gets a bad rap. She was busy at work doing meal prep for her guests and just wanted a little help from her sister.

But Martha was distracted by her many tasks; so she came to him and asked, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and distracted by many things; there is need of only one thing. Mary has chosen the better part, which will not be taken away from her.” -Luke 10:40-42, NRSV

I totally get Martha. If nobody works, nobody eats. If no one helps the pressure mounts upon her shoulders.

There is nothing wrong with being dependable. However, those of us who are wired this way do need to be mindful. Sometimes we find our worth in our work—apart from Jesus. Sometimes we let our worry suffocate our worship.

…worship and worry cannot live in the same heart; they are mutually exclusive.” -Ruth Bell Graham

Had Martha forgotten who was in her midst?

Jesus could do anything, surely He could have taken care of the meal so that Martha could be more present. Could it be that Martha was so focused on her works that she missed an opportunity to worship?

Doing for the Lord should be an expression of our heart to Him, an extension of thankfulness. We need to be careful that we aren’t using our works to feel worthy.

Don’t let your works run you right past the Worthy One.

In the midst of your giftedness, don’t lose sight of the Gift. In the midst of your doing don’t overlook the Divine. In the midst of your striving don’t bypass the Savior.

“We may run ourselves ragged doing things for God and lose him in the midst of it all.” -Sheila Walsh

Join me over at Kelly Balarie’s blog, Purposeful Faith, as we talk about Doing Less in Order to Gain More…

Dear Tightly Wound Woman:

Sometimes finishing well looks different than you think it does.

You don’t have to be everything to everyone to finish well. You don’t have to do it all and then some to be counted among the greats. You don’t have to travel far and wide or spread yourself thin to be valued.

Finishing well has more to do with your character than your time, status or audience.

Finishing well might mean that someone carries you across the finish line when you don’t have anything left to give.

Finishing well might entail helping someone else break through the tape at the end of the race.

You don’t have to be the best, look the best, or feel the best to be a champion in My Book.

You might cross the finish line broken and bruised—like I did—but holding a victory that cannot be taken and does not spoil or fade (see 1 Peter 1:3-9).

Sometimes finishing well is getting last place, just showing up, trying again and not giving up.

My economy is so different than yours. I value the weak. I pass out awards to the banged-up. I fill up the empty. I lay down my life instead of exerting entitlement.

Bow instead of bulldoze.

Dance instead of despair.

Give instead of hoard.

Listen instead of sounding off.

Stoop instead of strut.

Pick others up instead of sprinting ahead.

Finishing well looks different than you think.

It’s not about applause but about attitude. It’s not about accolades but an ability to endure when no one is cheering. It’s not about advancement but about being faithful with what He has set before you.

Sometimes it’s about resting, relenting and relinquishing.

Sometimes it’s about giving in order to gain and conceding in order to conquer.

Don’t give up. I go with You. I am for you. You can trust me to be strong in your weakness.

That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” –2 Corinthians 12:10

If you’re new around here then you might not know that each month you’ll receive a special love letter to help you unwind in His Presence. These letters (on the first Tuesday of each month) are written especially to the tightly wound woman who needs to be reminded that she is loved, seen and not alone.

In case you missed last month’s letter, you can read it (and listen to it being read) below:

welcome

Hi, I'm Katie (a Modern Martha, wife, and mom to five). I'm so glad you're here! Let's enjoy some cut-to-the-chase conversation over hot or iced tea, as we find grace in the unraveling of life (together). Let's exchange try-hard striving for hope-filled freedom as we settle into our position as a doer and a daughter—created by a Loving Father.
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